


Hey Kid, You Can't Work Here . . . (Never Mind, You Intimidated Your Way In)

by WakandaForever2357



Series: Peter Parker Centric Stories [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alcohol, BAMF Peter Parker, Dubious Workplace, Gen, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Some characters are only mentioned - Freeform, Too Lazy To Tag, financial troubles, meetings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakandaForever2357/pseuds/WakandaForever2357
Summary: Financial troubles hit May and Peter, and Peter decides to get himself a job. Except, he can't really find anything that doesn't interfere with Spider-Man hours, until a mugger tells him about a job at a bar . . .There's no way THAT can go wrong, is there?
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Peter Parker Centric Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165157
Comments: 23
Kudos: 146





	Hey Kid, You Can't Work Here . . . (Never Mind, You Intimidated Your Way In)

Peter caught Aunt May staring at the monthly bill with a frown on her face. 

"What's wrong, Aunt May?" he asked.

She started."Peter! You scared me. And nothing's wrong."

"The worried frown on your face says otherwise," he said.

She sighed. "It's just the money for the bill; I think I'll have to pull double shifts this week to cover the rent."

Peter frowned. He knew, of course, that things were tight financially, but he didn't like Aunt May taking double-shifts. They tired her out a lot.

"It's okay, honey," she said, smiling tiredly and pulling him into a hug. "I'll make this work."

"You shouldn't have to," Peter murmured. 

"I know, but I don't know what else to do."

"Don't worry about it. I'll help," Peter said determinedly.

* * *

No matter how much Aunt May protested that she didn't need help, Peter knew she did, so he started job-hunting. Jobs were on his mind now constantly, more than anything. He couldn't find anything though, because he was either not chosen or the job interfered with his Spider-Manning hours.

"Normal people work as cashiers or clerks," he grumbled to himself while he was fighting a bunch of muggers, "but you had to go with _saving people._ And how's that working out for you?"

"You looking for a job, man?" one of the webbed-up muggers asked. 

"Yeah, other than the obvious," he gestured to himself. "Nothing's coming up though."

"There's a bar that's looking for a new bartender on 73rd," the mugger said.

Peter looked at the guy, surprised that he would be offering him a job after he had just taken him down. "A bar?"

"Yeah."

"Well, thanks for the tip. I'll check it out."

"So, can you let me go?" the mugger asked hopefully.

Peter laughed. "Nice try, buddy. You can stay right where you are, the cops will be here soon."

As he was swinging home, he mulled over the offer in his head. A bartender. If a mugger was telling him about it, then that probably meant that the bar was super shady. That didn't really bother Peter though. He had spent enough time as Spider-Man to know how to act on the streets. If it was shady, that probably meant they didn't care if he underage (like _way_ underage.)

Might as well as check it out.

* * *

He headed out later that night as Peter Parker and found the place the mugger was telling him about. He was right, it _was_ really shady, probably where all the criminals and mercs showed up. 

He strolled inside.

He was immediately hit by the strong smell of alcohol. The bar was shabby and dirty, and men were everywhere, shouting, playing cards, drinking.

He straightened and clenched his fists, his face becoming a mask of cool indifference. He strode through the bar purposefully and reached the counter where the bartender was looking at him suspiciously. 

"You don't look twenty-one," he said.

"So what if I'm not?" he retorted in a cool, hard tone. 

The bartender shrugged. "Just needed to make sure you know what you were getting into, kid. What do you want?"

"I'm looking for a job and someone on the streets told me you had an opening."

The bartender studied his face. "Maybe we do."

"Well, I want it," he said, leaning across the table. 

The bartender sighed. "This isn't a job for kids that fancy themselves as bad boys."

"I don't _fancy_ myself as anything," Peter said in a low, dangerous tone. "I-"

Whatever he was about to say got cut off by a loud bang as two heavily tattoed men started to fight. 

Before the bartender could do anything, Pete was there, separating the two men. "Cut it out or take it outside," he said coolly to the two panting men. 

"Oh yeah, what're you going to do, kid?" one of the men sneered before throwing a clumsy punch. Peter easily dodged and retaliated with a hard punch to the jaw, nearly knocking the man over.

"Done?" he asked indifferently.

"You little-" whatever the man was about to say got lost to a grunt of pain as Peter twisted both arms behind his back and shoved him forcefully out the door. 

"You going to sit down or what?" he asked the other guy unconcernedly as if he fought and beat heavily muscled men every day. (Which, technically, he did.)

The other man sat back down, looking at Peter warily.

"What're you looking at?" he asked the bartender.

The man shook his head, looking faintly impressed. "Looks like you got the job, kid," he said. "The name's Weasel."

Peter smiled. "Peter."

* * *

The job wasn't actually that bad. It was flexible and allowed Peter to come after his Spider-Man hours late in the night. Working at the bar also gave him access to all kinds of tips about criminal activities that were going to take place, and sending all that time with mercs and criminals helped him improve his own image on the streets. He could tell criminals were more intimidated by Spider-Man, and he could also manage to look more threatening give off a _don't mess with me_ vibe. He was also learning how to become a better liar and how to quickly shut someone down.

The bar was also the place where he first met other vigilantes.

That day he had strolled into the bar and had immediately caught sight of a group of people staring at him. Thanks to his enhanced senses, he had heard one of them whisper, "What is a kid doing here?"

"I don't know."

"I think he works here."

They had all looked to where Peter was getting ready for his shift. 

"Why is a kid working here?"

"Who knows? But that's not what we're here for."

"That might not be what we're here for, but it seems like a pretty big problem to me!"

"Calm down Claire, the kid looks pretty seasoned to me."

The night continued and the group never swayed. It looked like they were conducting surveillance. 

About an hour in, one of their group was accosted by a very drunk man. 

"Gimme your money," he snarled, which was a pretty dumb move, considering that there were six of them and one of him. 

"Get lost," one of the women snarled. 

Before it could escalate any further, Peter was there. "You have a problem?" he asked the drunk man in a cool voice. 

"Beat it," the man said gruffly.

"No, I don't think I will," he replied. 

The man was either incredibly drunk or incredibly stupid (or both) because he took a wild swing at Peter. Peter easily dodged and decked the man with a hard fist to the face before dragging him and tossing him out of the bar. He heard the group explode into whispers as he headed back to the counter. 

"There's no way that kid is not enhanced."

"I agree. He took the guy out with one punch and hauled him like a sack of potatoes."

A few minutes later, one of them sighed. "Well, I'm out of here. Your info was a bust, Murdock. I haven't heard a thing about Harrison all night.

 _Harrison._ Peter had heard that name come up in a conversation between two mercs yesterday. 

He walked over to the group who all visibly tensed as he approached. "Got some info you might want to hear," he said in a low voice. "Meet me outside." 

They looked wary but nodded. Peter met them in a shadowy alley behind the bar. 

"Alright kid. What is it?"

"I want a question of mine answered first. I recognized some of you in the bar. Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Danny Rand. And if three of the Defenders are here, then the fourth must be as well. You're Daredevil aren't you?" he asked, nodding at the man wearing glasses.

There was a stunned silence before Jessica snorted. "Smart kid. Don't think anyone's found out your identity that easily, Murdock."

"Don't worry," Peter said quickly. "Your secret's safe with me."

"And how do I know that?" the man demanded. 

Peter stared at him. "Because I know a thing or two about having a secret identity."

They all looked stunned at his words. "Why are you in this life, kid?" Danny finally asked.

"Shit happens."

"Why do you work here?" Jessica asked. 

Peter quirked his lips. "Truthfully? I just needed the money."

She nodded. "Stuck between a rock and a hard place, huh kid?" she sighed. "I understand that. If you ever like. need backup or anything, just give me a shout."

"Same goes for all of us," Luke said, and they all nodded.

Peter nodded. "Thanks."

"As touching as this is," one of the other women said, "didn't you have something to tell us?"

"Oh yeah!" Peter exclaimed. "So basically, I heard the name Harrison pop up when I was serving two mercs yesterday. Something about a shipment coming in from the docks in a few days."

Jessica nodded, all business. "Thanks for the tip, kid. We'll be prepared. And if you want to join us-" she glanced at him, "you're more than welcome to." 

Peter grinned. "I think I'll take you up on that. I'm due for a night off anyway."

* * *

That was the start of a lot of team-ups between Peter and the Defenders, both individual and full team. He had to admit, it was pretty nice to have a team to rely on when he needed help or backup. He met Karen Page and Foggy Nelson and found himself with an increasing number of contacts as the days progressed. He trained with Matt, went out investigating and interrogating with Jessica, meditated with Danny, busted gangs with Luke, and dove into the world of law and deduction with Karen and Foggy. 

The next person he ran into was Deadpool, who he crashed into while he was out with Matt. Although he did find him kind of crazy, he was pretty fun and a good listener. He also met Vanessa (who was a force to be reckoned with) and then he met Weasel (and had to awkwardly explain to Wade that he already knew him). Wade and Weasel taught Peter how to utilize the underground, and Weasel was a great informer. 

He also decided to tell Aunt May, which went better than expected. She was understandably angry at him but agreed to let him keep the job, which really surprised him. 

So yeah, life was good. But Peter was waiting for the other metaphorical shoe to drop. He knew that life was going to trip him up sooner or later, because that's just how Parker Luck was.

The other shoe dropped one week later, when Natasha Romanoff strode into the bar while Peter was working. He had gone shock still as Natasha gave a cursory glance and caught sight of Peter. She looked momentarily shocked but quickly composed herself before walking over to the counter. 

"A bourbon, please," she said casually. 

As Peter handed it to her, she hissed, "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," he muttered under his breath. "The bigger question is why are _you_ here?" 

"Looking for some information."

"What information?"

"None of your business."

"I think it _is_ my business since you just walked into the place where I work," he said in a hard voice. "So tell me: what exactly are you fishing for?"

She stared at him and then said, "A merc named Nathanson. Ex-Hydra. Somebody tipped me off and said he was in the area."

"He came two nights ago and is planning a robbery on 11th. Now leave."

She raised an eyebrow at him but finished her drink and left. Peter breathed a sigh of relief, but knew it wasn't over; there would be hell at tomorrow's training session.

* * *

"So, do you want to explain why you work at one of the shadiest bars in the city?" Natasha asked casually.

"Not particularly."

"You can either explain to me or Tony."

He swore under his breath. "Fine. I got the job because I needed the money."

"You needed money," Natasha repeated dryly, "and you decided that working at a bar that's frequented by criminals was your best bet."

"I tried other things!" he argued, "but they weren't going to work! They were interfering with my Spider-Man hours! The job at the bar's perfect, and it pays well, too."

"Excuse me?" A voice said and Peter stiffened instantly as panic washed over him. "Did you just say _a job at a bar?_ "

Peter whirled around to face a furious-looking Mr. Stark.

"Hey, Mr. Stark-"

"Don't you _hey Mr. Stark_ me," Mr. Stark growled. "What did you mean by a job at the bar?"

 _Screw it,_ Peter thought, _If I'm going to go out, I might as well as go out in style._

"I meant exactly what I said," he said sassily. "I work as a bartender at a bar."

Mr. Stark blinked, looking as though he couldn't decide whether to be angry or confused at the sudden sass.

"So you actually have a job at a bar?" he asked again.

Peter grinned. "Yep. Pretty shady one too," he said nonchalantly, watching amusedly as Mr. Stark spluttered. 

" _What?!"_

"It pays well."

"That's it. You're coming with me, you saucy little-" Mr. Stark muttered the rest under his breath as he grabbed Peter's arm.

"Why do I have to come with you?" Peter asked as innocently as possible. "Am I in trouble?"

"You bet your ass you are," Mr. Stark grumbled.

"I don't see why though," he asked, still in the same innocent voice.

"You-you don't see _why?_ " Mr. Stark asked incredulously. 

"No, I really _don't._ "

"You-you're working at _a criminal bar!"_

Peter shrugged. "So?"

He honestly thought that steam was going to start pouring out of Mr. Stark's ears. "What do you mean _so?!_ "

"I meant so what? I needed money, and I got a job."

"I have money!"

That pulled Peter right out of his lighthearted mood. "I'm not a charity case, Mr. Stark," he said sharply. "I'm not going to come running to you with money problems just because you're a billionaire. I can handle my own problems."

Mr. Stark sighed. "Kid, I'm just trying to get you to see the problem here. There are _hundreds_ of job opportunities out there, and you chose to be an _underage bartender at a bar that's frequented by criminals._ See the problem here?"

"No, I really don't," Peter said coolly.

Mr. Stark looked ready to tear his own hair out of pure frustration. "Kid-"

"The job pays really well, better than any other student job there might be out there. It doesn't interfere with my Spider-Man duties and working there also tips me off about all kinds of things. And also, May approves."

That last point seemed to take all the wind out of Mr. Stark's sails. He visibly deflated and asked, "May approves?!"

"Well, not _approves,_ exactly, but she understands. Besides, I can handle myself."

Mr. Stark just stared at him, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Natasha snorted. "Well, Peter, looks like you've just rendered the Great Tony Stark speechless. I don't think anyone's managed that yet."

"Shut up," Mr. Stark grumbled, glaring at Natasha, who just smirked in response. "And you-" he rounded on Peter, "you cheeky little shit, I might not be able to officially punish you, but you're in for a hell of a lab session today."

"Whatever you say, old man. I think _you'll_ be the one having trouble keeping up, though."

Mr. Stark let out a sound of disbelief. " _Old man!_ Why, I _never_ -"

Peter grinned to himself as he walked to the lab, leaving a spluttering Mr. Stark behind him.

 _It could have been worse,_ he mused, _At least he didn't find out I know Deadpool._


End file.
